


Sciamachy

by Justghostingby



Series: Strawbarrow drabbles [5]
Category: Room of Swords (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, handwashing, warnings for intrusive thoughts, warnings for slight self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27950411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justghostingby/pseuds/Justghostingby
Summary: Kodya wrestles with his mind after the incident
Relationships: Gyrus Axelei/Kodya Karevic
Series: Strawbarrow drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987075
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Sciamachy

**Author's Note:**

> know Sciamachy means a battle against imaginary enemies, but what better enemy than the one in your mind?

Kodya scrubbed his hands, wishing Oli made better soap. The stuff he had didn’t seem to work, and no matter how many times he scrubbed, he just couldn’t seem to get clean. 

He glanced down at his hands, knuckles cracked and skin rubbed raw. They seemed almost... _clean._ For a second, hope bubbled up in his heart. But phantom burns like shadowed fingers forced him to screw his eyes closed, and when he looked again the blood was back, seeped into his skin and dripping down his forearms.

Soap. Yes. He really needed better soap, Kodya thought as he began to scrub them again, cold water stinging strangely against his skin. But to get more, it would mean he’d have to leave, and leaving meant...

Angry faces glaring, Ragan shoving him up against a wall, Nephthys between them, and Don saying...

_Don’t take out your anger on Kodya. We were all used by Gyrus._

Used. Used, an ugly word. Kodya tore at his thumbnail viciously, trying to clean off the blood - there was blood, there had to be - encrusted underneath. He felt ugly, like somehow the word had sunk into his skin like the blood that _would not come off._

Had he really only been used?

\--------

“I’m asking for your help!” Gyrus looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading despite his closed off stance. “I want you to try that spell on me!” 

Confusion welled in Kodya, Gyrus had never asked for help, ever, for as long as Kodya had been his apprentice. He wondered what had changed. But all his worries were pushed away by the overwhelming joy rising like the tide in his heart. Gyrus had come to him. Not Don, not Cib. Him.

“Do you want to come in?” he offered, and the lines around Gyrus’s eyes relaxed, even if his body remained tense. Kodya’s attention was drawn to them, and in the dim light he could catch a glimpse of the purple hidden inside, like the last color of the sunset. 

\---------

The air was thick with humidity and heat. He was exhausted, sweat sticking his clothes to him uncomfortably after the 1000 step climb. Ainju sat across from him, but it was to Gyrus his attention turned, sitting crosslegged at Kodya’s side as he listened to Ainju speak. 

“Gyrus,” Kodya placed a hand on his arm. “Are you sure about this? We’re pretty far from camp if anything goes wrong.” If a shadow found them now, with Gyrus in such a weakened state, Kodya didn’t know what they’d do.

But Gyrus had leaned against him, and Kodya could feel every nerve tingling the closer he came. “I’ll be fine as long as you have my back!” Gyrus smiled, knuckles gently tapping Kodya’s chest, and Kodya’s heart sped up to match the rhythm. He knew right then he’d fight the shadow boss himself if it meant protecting Gyrus’ back.

\---------

“What battle?” Kodya questioned, head still spinning. Nothing was making sense. Especially not Gyrus, who shouldn’t even be here but somehow sat beside him. “Are you trying to tell me you’re in danger?”

“Not as long as you keep your promise,” Gyrus stood up, hand reaching down to stroke Kodya’s cheek. “That if I’m ever reset, you’ll tell me everything I forgot.” Kodya felt his worries fading as he stared up at the man he adored. “That way I can always come back.” Gyrus’ eyebrows drew together, looking strangely serious. “Just remember its not over. You got that?” He pressed.

“Da.” Kodya reached up to grip Gyrus’ hand in his own. “It’s not over,” he repeated. “I’ll remember.”

\---------

Kodya bit his lip as the memories faded, the tangy taste of blood filling his mouth. He rubbed his palms together with all his strength. He had been used. over and over again. And he’d been so _proud_ of it. 

God. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He tore at the back of his hand, nails digging into the skin in an attempt to get the blood off. He wanted to go back in time, to shake his younger self until he stopped it.

Stopped feeling that little spark of pleasure as one of the stress lines on Gyrus’ face relaxed under the effects of his soothe spell.

Stopped being so protective of the mediating Gyrus at his back, so ready to fight the whole jungle to buy Gyrus another minute of peace.

Stopped wanting so to see Gyrus so desperately, wanting an explanation for his behavior, and wanting to believe it even against all logic.

Just stop! He slammed his hands against the sink, the blood staining the water pink. Kodya felt tears slip from his lashes, washed away by the cold storm coming from the tap.

Had Gyrus ever seen him as anything more than a tool?

\----------

Kodya snapped awake, the softness around him registering as wrong somehow. He scrambled upwards, struggling with the blankets piled around him. He was on the bed. His bed. But how? Last he knew, he’d put Gyrus in it, the man to exhausted to protest, and laid on the floor. 

“Good morning sleepy head,” a voice came from his left, and he saw Gyrus himself smiling shyly at him, a delicious scent waffling from the bag in his hands. “I got Oli to give me your breakfast to go, since I let you sleep in.”

“Gyrus?” Kodya cried, brain trying to catch up with the sight before him. “But...you were on the bed.”

“Yes,” Gyrus winced slightly. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to put you out of your bed. It won’t happen again.”

“I didn’t mind,” Kodya said, leaning forward. “I wanted to help.”

“Well I did,” Gyrus shook his head, and Kodya felt his heart sink. “Lifting you back into bed was no easy feat!” he gave Kodya a reassuring grin, but there was an earnestness in his eyes that made Kodya’s heart flip. “Let me make it up to you, okay?”

\---------

It had been an ambush. The shadows had used the jungle as cover, and no one had seen them coming until the team had been surrounded.

Nephthys screamed, and Kodya was by her side before he knew it, shoving her out of the way of the shadow just as its long arms wrapped around his own wrists instead. He’d tried to fight it, push and shove, but every move only seemed to open him up to more of the shadow’s consuming darkness. As it reached up to his throat, he dimly realized this was the end.

“KODYA!” A familiar voice screamed, and the sky broke in two. The shadow was ripped away by a pulsing green energy, and Kodya nearly toppled over as a fierce wind blew around him, whipping all the shadows upward around a figure wreathed in black and green. The figure snapped his fingers, and the shadows disintegrated, any remaining pieces thrown to the wind, far away from the team below.

The figure lowered himself to the ground, and only then could Kodya make out Gyrus’ familiar face, eyes wild and clothing in tatters.

“Kodya!” Gyrus screamed again, reaching out a hand towards him, seemingly unaware of his own battered state. Kodya took a step towards him and felt his legs gave out. 

He fell into a pair of strong arms, and as he faded into unconsciousness, all he could think was how warm they were. 

\---------

Kodya gripped Gyrus’ arm, fingers tingling with power. He just wanted Gyrus to stop it all, stop pushing him away, then showing up a year later, uttering insanities and shoving him in a closet. “I could paralyze you and end this right here.”

“Go ahead and do it then,” Gyrus looked him right in the eye. “If Don’s really turned you against me, then I’ve already lost.” The conviction in his voice made Kodya hesitate, trapped between love and loyalty, unsure one which story to believe. 

\---------

No! Kodya shook his head violently. The blood seemed thicker on his hands, as if it had grown times twelve. But that was stupid. He rubbed the soap between his fingers. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known. And he’d been used. 

Used. Kodya scratched at the blood under his nails again. Used by the man he loved. Used by the one he’d thought he’d do anything for. Used by the man he’d... that he’d...

 _This isn’t over,_ a voice whispered in his ear, and Kodya felt the blood on his hands as if it were fresh and dripping from the open wound on Gyrus’ neck.

Stop. Kodya grabbed more soap, lathering it until there was nothing left but a tiny sliver. Just stop thinking. He had to get this blood off him, somehow.

Maybe it was for the best he was used, a small, cynical voice that sounded suspiciously like Don’s. If he was nothing but an errand boy to Gyrus, wouldn’t the blood not matter then?

_You know how much I love you._

Kodya jolted pulling his hands back from the basin. For one second, he saw his hands as they were, raw and scabbed, but cleaner then they’ve ever been before in his life. Then he blinked, tears welling up, and the stains were back, thicker and redder than ever.

Kodya lay on the bathroom floor, the water that spilled down from the edge of the sink soaking his hair, and pulled his blood-soaked hands over his face. Only then did he allow himself to sob. But who he was crying for, whether it was himself, Gyrus, or for the love he’d thought they shared, he wasn’t certain.

**Author's Note:**

> Nephthys: Kody! You're finally out of your room! (sees hands and gasps) WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HANDS?  
> Kodya: I need better soap  
> Nephthys: You need better lotion is what you need! (kisses hand) There. Better?  
> Kodya: (looks down at hands and smiles slightly) Better.


End file.
